


Don't Fear the Darkness

by westofnowhere



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Horror, M/M, Post Apocalyptic AU, Slow Burn, metro 2033 AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-16 10:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westofnowhere/pseuds/westofnowhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 2033 and humanity is forced underground due to severe radiation from nuclear war. They live in the tunnels of the metro while the world decays and mutates above them. </p><p>Bilbo Baggins is no different from any other resident of the metro until he happens to accidentally meet a strange man who only calls himself Thorin. But maybe it's not an accident and maybe this meeting is far more important than he thinks? Or maybe he's just being silly and this strange man is only just that and nothing else? He sure doesn't like to talk about himself. </p><p>And Bilbo certainly would never consider trudging through the whole entire metro for this stranger of a man...would he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night with no stars

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Metro 2033 Hobbit (Bagginshield) AU.

Seven hours on watch.

Seven dark, dingy, cold hours sitting beside a gently crackling fire that did little to illuminate the ever present darkness around them. It wasn’t the darkness of night. It was the crushing darkness of close walls and low ceilings. The darkness that people dared not venture into without heavy armaments and giant, industrial sized flashlights. But it was also the darkness that people have grown grudgingly accustomed to and for many, it was the only darkness they knew.  

Many would never know the darkness of a true night; the skies littered with millions of stars and the moon shinning high above. How would a child born to the tunnels of the metro ever know the true, infinite beauty of stars?

But Bilbo remembered them. Sitting here, in this unnatural darkness, he could fondly recall that night 20 years ago when he sat between his mother and father and gazed upon the stars. He was only 8 then. Still a boy.

Yet, the memory helped in moments of anxiety. Or boredom.

Yawning loudly and stretching his legs out in front of the fire, Bilbo tried his best to stay awake. There was only one hour to go and he would be damned if he fell asleep now.

“Did I ever tell you the story about the four legged, three headed mutants?” Came the question from beside him and Bilbo peered at his hat wearing companion to roll his eyes with a slightly exasperated chuckle.

“Oh Bofur, those mutants seem to grow more heads and legs the more you tell that story.”

Bofur laughed next to him, adjusting the RPK-74 resting in his lap. “You don’t believe it?”

“Not the 4 legged bit. I’m sure there are mutants with 3 legs maybe. But 4? How would they even function?”

Bofur shrugged at the question, idly chewing on a long gone out rolled up cigarette. “They’re mutants. How do they function in the first place?”

“By...being mutants, I suppose.” Bilbo shrugged, squinting into the darkness and shivering. This really wasn’t the best topic for watch hours, but at least they weren’t talking about...them. Another shiver rocketed up his spine at the mere thought and Bilbo tried his best to think of something else. Those...things...always gave him the chills. But they did worse to other people. The mere mention of those creatures could send the most hardened soldier into horrified hysterics and most on the station learned to try and not speak of them.

The Dark Ones. Bilbo rubbed nervously at his arm. Right, think of something else...

Bofur grimaced and stood, stretching luxuriously and sliding a hand under his hat to scratch at his hair. “They keep promising us fortifications. And where are they, I ask you?” He grumbled suddenly, Bilbo peering up at his friend through his curls. He wondered if they were on the same train of thought.

After a moment of stretching, Bofur grunted, spat out the cigarette and peered down at Bilbo. “Did you hear about what happened?” He asked cryptically and at Bilbo’s look of confusion, he flopped back down once more, knocking his hat back away from his eyes. “Down on the purple line, it’s what...3 away from ours?” Bilbo looked uncomfortable at the words but Bofur carried on, flicking at his hat once more. “They say someone gutted the whole station there.”

Bilbo’s look of discomfort grew. “Gutted?” He asked a bit meekly and Bofur nodded, moving closer to the fire and grabbing the kettle to put the tea on.

“There were stories, you know. Kept saying that their patrols kept disappearing. They’d go out, barely a kilometer away and never come back. Everyone started to get worried real quick. Sent out other patrols to look for them and found nothing. Not even traces of guns being fired or any kind of struggle. And then another patrol disappeared, and they weren’t even half a kilometer away. They got scared. Set up fortifications and brought out the flood lights. Sent out a runner to their neighboring station. He wasn’t gone a day when another come running, saying all the defenders got their throats slit. By the time their neighbors sent people to investigate the whole station was empty.”

“Empty..?”

“Yeah. No people, no bodies. Just a station swimming in blood.”

Bilbo swallowed, gaze dashing quickly down the tunnel. “Thank you, Bofur, that’s very comforting...” He muttered at last and his friend chuckled as he put the kettle on, clapping his free hand on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Now, now, I’m sure it’s all just stories.” He said easily in response to Bilbo’s nerves, adjusting the gun on his lap once more. Bilbo didn’t look relieved at all and stared down into the darkness of the tunnel. He had heard similar stories before. Some ended up being just that. Simple stories from a scared populace. But others... Bilbo swallowed. He wouldn’t be surprised at this point. With the Dark ones recently appearing and all sorts of strange things happening in the depths of the tunnels no one inhabited, he would have been more surprised to find this particular story to be false.

Bofur looked incredibly unconcerned and sat back leisurely, watching the fire while Bilbo’s eyes remained fixed on the tunnel. They sat quite removed from the station, 450 meters away, where its red emergency lights were barely visible and the din of sounds just barely reached their ears. In fact, their post was just as far into the dark as Bilbo was willing to sit. Ever since the appearance of the Dark ones, going far into their own tunnels had become increasingly more dangerous. And no one wanted to run into one of those...things all by themselves, in the dark, beyond the 500 meter mark. At least people were still willing to venture there. But the further the patrols got from the 500 meter marker, the more uneasy they became. And that feeling grew progressively worse until the 700 meter mark. That was where even the most hardened soldier would stop in silent terror, putting out their cigarettes and slowly, not daring to turn their backs to the darkness and aiming their mighty guns into the pitch black void, they would back away. Back away until the safety of the last watch post.

Which is where they sat now.

Bilbo drifted into his own thoughts while Bofur poked at the fire with scraggy stick. How did it come to this? Twenty years ago, he would have never imagined this happening. That they would be forced to hide in the metro to survive, as the world above became too toxic for human life. And slowly, that toxicity seeped into the tunnels where they cowered. Mutants, radiated waters, animals that you couldn’t even call animals anymore. Rats the size of dogs. Bilbo shivered, toying idly with a thick chain that hung around his neck.

“What do you think they are?” Came the sudden question, making Bilbo jump in surprise and stare, wild eyed at his companion.

“What, the rats?!” He blurted, Bofur quirking an eyebrow at him.

“No, not the rats. Why would I ask about the rats?” He chuckled and Bilbo grimaced at him, clearing his throat and tucking the chain back under his shirt.

“What, then?” He asked instead of explaining and Bofur stared at the kettle thoughtfully.

“The Dark Ones.” Bilbo blanched but Bofur didn’t seem to notice. “They’re not mutants, are they? I mean...not really. I wonder what they are...” He trailed off thoughtfully and Bilbo chewed on his bottom lip.

“Who knows...” He muttered, eyeing the darkness of the tunnel wearily. Bofur looked ready to explore the topic further but he was interrupted. At first, the noises were tiny and barely distinguishable. So much so that the two men by the fire didn’t hear them. It was Bilbo who heard them first. And Bilbo who hissed at Bofur to be quiet, standing slowly and hefting his gun from his back to his hands. The noises grew louder; a faint scritching and rustling, followed by the light trudge of uneven footsteps. Bilbo swallowed, shakily removing the safety off his Kalash and sliding further away from the fire.

“Stop, or I’ll shoot!” He called to the noise, doing his best to not let his voice crack while Bofur hissed behind him, quickly jumping to his feet and grabbing his own gun and flashlight. The footsteps didn’t falter and an odd noise followed them. A gurgling, hissing sputter with a faint undercurrent of a high pitched wail.

“Not human!” Bofur snapped, quickly flicking the flashlight on and guiding the beam down into the darkness. The footsteps froze, then sped up and an ungodly shriek echoed around the tunnel walls as the light from the flashlight finally landed on the creature.

“Crawler!” Bilbo cried out, and there was a racket somewhere behind them while Bofur attempted to shoot the monstrosity down. It shrieked and writhed and leapt from the floor to the ceiling, to the walls. Bofur swore loudly.

“Stay still, you piece of...” There was another shriek from somewhere further down the tunnel.

“Another one!”

“Bilbo, whistle!” Bilbo didn’t even have time to grab for the whistle when a faint click sounded from somewhere next to his shoulder and the creature let out a wailing shriek and collapsed on the tunnel floor. The noises from in front of them grew louder and Bilbo, not having a chance to look at who fired and swallowing the lump in his throat, quickly moved forward, aiming into the darkness. Another shot, another pain filled shriek and the noises subsided into echoes.

Bilbo slumped slightly while Bofur trudged forward to the still slightly writhing creature on the rails, blasting a bullet through its skull for good measure before disappearing into the gloom. Bilbo could barely see the tiny spot of his companion’s flashlight bouncing off the walls in the darkness.

“Ya alright, lad?” Came the question from behind and Bilbo breathed out shakily, peering over his shoulder to see the men who joined them. Two stood there, one of whom was holstering an incredibly impressive pistol. It was huge, bigger than any that Bilbo had seen on the station, a silencer covering the muzzle, which explained the lack of gunshot noise. But the man himself. Bilbo frowned. He didn’t look familiar...

He’d think on it later, Bilbo decided as he peered at the speaker instead. “Thank you, Gloin...we’re fine.” There was another sound of a gunshot from the tunnel before Bofur trudged back to the camp fire, wiping gunk off the tip of one boot.

“Nasty buggers, don’t die so easily.” He grumbled before settling down, inviting the new comers to join them. Gloin grinned through his beard, clapping Bofur on the shoulder as he settled and reached over to the kettle just as it started to whistle.

“Haven’t seen crawlers in these tunnels in months.” Gloin pointed out with a frown, accepting a white tin cup filled with tea. “Not since those other things showed up.” He added. Bilbo grimaced as he took his own cup from Bofur, blowing on the hot liquid. The stranger with the powerful pistol perked up at Gloin’s last words, looking suddenly curious.

“Other things?” He asked quietly, his voice a gruff murmur. Gloin grunted in reply.

“We...really shouldn’t talk about ‘em.”

“No?”

Bofur snorted loudly, blowing on his tea and taking a long swig. “It’s all a bunch of superstitious nonsense.” He waved it off but Bilbo frowned into his tea.

“...You haven’t seen them...” He breathed gently and felt the stranger’s eyes on him now. Bilbo swallowed. “They get into your head...the first time they come, it’s like...you can feel them. A sickening little tickle in the back of your mind. As if...something is not quite right. But you’re not sure what.” Chewing on his bottom lip, Bilbo trailed off, Gloin nodding beside him.

“Something ain’t right about them. It’s not natural.” He agreed. The stranger peered between them but said nothing for a while, giving Bilbo a chance to study his face. He looked older by a few years, with a fairly neatly trimmed beard and slicked back black hair sprinkled with gray. He was tall; taller than Bilbo by at least a foot with small scars marring his face. Bilbo wondered who he was.

He was so focused on studying the stranger that he didn’t notice the man was doing it right back, if only for a brief moment while Bofur and Gloin began arguing about something over their tea. Bilbo drowned it out. They always had some sort of argument going, some spanning for months without a clear winner. And it was all in good nature.

Bilbo sipped his tea, distracting himself to eye the tunnel and tuning out the noise from his companions. It was quiet in the darkness now. So quiet that Bilbo could hear the water dripping against rusting rails of the tunnel. Quiet and still. He hoped that meant the end to the crawlers...at least for the time being. Staring into the darkness, Bilbo tried to think about stars once more. It was getting more and more difficult to recall them.

A hand clapping on his shoulder jolted him quickly out of his thoughts. Bofur was standing, as was Gloin. “Watch is over.” His partner was saying as Bilbo quickly swigged down the last of the tea, setting the cup down on the crate he was using for a seat. Their watch may have been over but it looked like Gloin and his strange companion weren’t done yet. Their relief came up soon, clapping them on the shoulders and shaking their hands, quickly investigating if anything went on and if it was dealt with. Bofur recounted the events before bidding their replacements a good night and trudging back to the station, returning to his argument with Gloin.

Bilbo found himself walking alongside with the stranger, feeling even shorter now that they were standing. The man peered down at him, eyes a bright, piercing blue, even distinguishable in the faint light coming from their flashlights. Bilbo found it curious. He also felt a tad awkward but didn’t have much time to fret over it as the stranger broke the silence himself.

“Do you know Gray?” He asked in his hushed gruff murmur of a voice, Bilbo having to strain a little to hear him.

“Gandalf, you mean? Of course. He’s uh... a god father of sorts... I suppose...” He trailed off, quirking an eyebrow at the man who looked quite curious himself.

“God father, hmm? Didn’t peg him as the type.” The stranger mumbled under his nose and Bilbo grew even more interested.

“Who are you? You’re no local.” He said skeptically to which the stranger grunted in affirmation.

“No, suppose I am not.”

“Then who are you?”

“A friend.”

“Does this ‘friend’ have a name?”

The stranger gave him an odd look. “Why?”

“How am I supposed to tell Gandalf that someone was asking for him if I don’t know your name?” Bilbo tutted with slight impatience, still studying the man as they walked.

“Thorin.” The stranger answered at last as they neared the 350 meter mark where the two would remain.

“Should I pass a message along?” Bilbo asked slowly and the man named Thorin gave him a quick glance.

“Tell him I need to talk.” He said simply before nodding his farewell while Bilbo and Bofur continued on to the station. Bofur peered at his companion quizzically.

“Who was that?”

“He just said his name was Thorin.” Bilbo shrugged with a frown. “Said he knew Gandalf.”

“Huh...”

“My thoughts on it too.”

Bofur chuckled, flicking the hat back from his eyes once more and giving Bilbo a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Go get some sleep, Bilbo. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He said easily, despite Bilbo not actually worrying over whether things would be fine or not. But he let it go and, shaking Bofur’s hand, bid the man goodnight.

He really was tired. Yawning quite loudly and rubbing weakly at his eyes, Bilbo stumbled up to the platform which had become a miniature city over the years. Rows of tents formed little streets between them where people bustled about their daily lives under the faint crimson glow of the station’s emergency lights. About ten or so archways cut into each wall across the station from each other and every other one was left empty to be used as walkway down into the tunnel below.

Bilbo weaved between the people, stopping occasionally to greet an old acquaintance or throw a ball back to a small child before arriving, finally, at his tent. It was a tent he shared with his god father, but because of the man’s important role on the station, they weren’t forced to live with anyone else. Bilbo found that a blessing, especially after long days on watch and not even bothering to undress, save throwing off his Kalash and jacket, he collapsed face first into the pillow and let sleep take him.

He’d worry about this “Thorin” later. 


	2. Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your station referencing needs, here is a map of the metro since stations are going to be named a lot and it's handy to know where they are in regards to one another- [ Metro Map ](http://14octobre.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/metro_guide_eng.gif)

He was walking. The wind rustled lightly through the tall, green grass, fluffy white clouds rolling overhead. It was a lovely sunny day. And the skies were the bluest Bilbo had ever seen. He strolled lazily, feeling the grass through his bare toes and marveling at just how new everything looked. Over the rolling hills, he could see tiny round doors speckled in the grass and wondered quietly to himself about them. Did people live there? There, inside the hills themselves?

What a novel idea, Bilbo thought with a smile, taking a turn to look a bit closer. As he approached, he could see little chimneys jutting out of the ground and tiny gardens sprawling in front of the multicolored round doors. And far in the distance, there was a particularly large hill with a giant oak tree perched on top and a forest green door that Bilbo could make out from here.

Curious, he thought and started on his way for a closer look. It looked so cozy and homely that Bilbo felt the urge to run there. Such an unbelievably pull. But as he sped up, the skies began to darken and above the oak tree, thunder boomed and lightning flashed. Bilbo hissed and broke into a trot. The clouds grew closer and darker.

Soon, he was running at a mad sprint and the boom of thunder overhead was deafening. He wanted to reach that little place with the oak tree, he had to! But the thunder shook the ground and the closer he got to the little door, the darker the skies became until the sun was blotted out completely. The grass seemed to shrink into itself and the wind picked up, howling loudly, almost like warning sirens.

Letting out a frantic wail, Bilbo tried to speed up. He hopped a hill, almost fell over his own feet and went sliding down to the bottom. But his feet met dirt, not grass and the siren like wailing of the wind grew louder and louder, the ground shaking beneath him while the little green door and the oak tree above it seemed to grow smaller and further away.

“No...no...” He panted and tried to run again but even the dirt looked blacker now and seemed to stick to his feet, making it incredibly difficult to run. And the siren’s wail grew overwhelming as the blackened skies erupted in multiple fires that rocketed from somewhere on land. And the little green door and the oak tree were swallowed in flames and suddenly, he was running along rails. Rails leading into nothingness that seemed to never end. But he kept running and running.

It couldn’t be gone! He wouldn’t believe it! There had to be a chance that it was still there! So focused was Bilbo on getting there that he suddenly tripped against something incredibly solid and collapsed on the tunnel floor. Fighting his way up, gasping and sputtering for air, Bilbo finally realized what it was he tripped over. A body lay on the rails, its face hidden from view but as Bilbo shakily reached over and rolled it onto its back, he quickly recognized the person.

He had only met him briefly. Thorin... The stranger lay as stiff as a rail on the tunnel floor. Bilbo shook him. He couldn’t be dead. They had to run, he couldn’t be dead! He shook the body frantically, its head lulling back and forth.

“Wake up, wake up, the sirens!” He tried through panted breath before suddenly letting go. Thorin’s lifeless form fell back to the rails and the siren’s wail grew louder. Bilbo tried to rise but fell back a few times. He had to run, they were going to burn! He had to get out of there. As he finally managed to fight his way to his feet, a cold hand suddenly seized him by the wrist, dragging him down.

“Not today,” hissed a voice in his ear, the fingers tightening, as cold as death, “not today.” It breathed again and Bilbo fought frantically to get out of that deadly grip. He swatted and kicked and pried but the deathly cold fingers only tightened, pulling him closer and closer until he was face to face with the stranger. Face to face with Thorin.

But where hair should have been, there was nothing. The skin was as black as the darkest night and the eyes were huge but had no pupils. Dark voids instead of eyes. Bilbo shrieked and fought harder, even as the creature pulled him closer and closer. No! He had to get out! They wouldn’t get him! He had to...

With a cry, Bilbo rolled off the bed and came crashing to the floor of the tent with a flailing of limbs.

“What on this earth... Bilbo?” Came from outside and as Bilbo rolled over, untangling himself from a mess of blanket he found the gray eyed face of Gandalf wavering worriedly above him.

“Gandalf! You’re back!” He fought out as he struggled to his feet, Gandalf chuckled and reached down to pull Bilbo up.

“I did say I’d be back today.”

“Is it ‘today’ already?” Bilbo yawned as his god father smiled warmly, clapping him on the shoulder.

“It’s been ‘day’ for an hour.” He said easily before beckoning for Bilbo to join him in the other part of the tent. Still shaking off the effects of the dream, Bilbo followed.

“Oh, that’s right, someone named Thorin wanted to se...” He broke off. There was Thorin, sitting behind their little table. “Oh.” His heart froze and all the details of the dream came flooding back. Those dark eyes... that horrific and almost human face. Bilbo swallowed. It was just a dream. This Thorin looked quite human with all his hair and eyes intact. Nothing to worry about. He was being ridiculous.  

“You didn’t even need me to tell him, did you?” Bilbo laughed faintly instead while Thorin studied him thoughtfully.

“One can never be sure.” The bearded man said after a long silence before Gandalf nudged a kettle into Bilbo’s hands and asked that he be a good sport and boil water for some tea. Needing a reason to distract himself, Bilbo agreed without protest and trotted off while the two settled to talk. Curious, they really did seem to know each other.

He found the community fire pit soon, hanging the kettle above it and settling on a crate to watch it thoughtfully. No fires were allowed inside the tents or close to them without a designated and thoroughly cleared area. Many a station had suffered horrific fires when an unregulated campfire raged out of control, consuming tent and human alike. The screams of the burning would echo through the tunnels for days, even after the fires burned out, resounding to neighboring stations. And the smell of burning flesh lingered for months. Ill fortune to those unlucky travelers who accidentally stumbled upon the remnants of this hell unawares.

Bilbo shivered at the thought and tried to think of something else. He wondered what it was that this “Thorin” character did. He was certainly not very talkative or even approachable. Bilbo tapped his chin thoughtfully. Maybe he’d get a chance to sit with them before needing to go off to his shift at the tea factory.

It wasn’t really a factory. Not in the traditional sense. In the far end of the station was the corded off area where people would make their station’s famous tea. VDNH’s tea was known through the metro, despite it not actually being tea. Not much real tea was left after the fallout and any that was left was saved and cherished and used only in the most special of occasions.

No, the metro’s definition of tea became a mixture of dried mushrooms, chopped and ground into a fine powder and mixed with spices. On VDNH, they perfected the mixture and its ingredients were known only to the station authorities.

Bilbo yawned gently, rubbing tiredly at his face. He supposed he would rather work a shift making their tea than sit at the 450 meter mark waiting for monstrosities to crawl from the darkness. It was just his luck.

Grabbing the kettle as it boiled, Bilbo trudged back to their tent just as Thorin was frowning deeply at Gandalf. “You’re saying no one knows where they came from?”

“Oh, we know where they’re coming FROM. Just not where or how they originated.” Gandalf said easily, thanking Bilbo for the tea as he set the kettle down between them, taking a seat beside his god father. Thorin fingered his chin through his beard.

“Botanicheskiy sad, hmmm...” He breathed under his nose, studying first Gandalf, then Bilbo before taking a swig of tea. “And the barrier?”

“Haven’t you heard, Thorin? Someone incredibly intelligent dismantled it for the defense of some now forgotten station years ago. There’s nothing to prevent them from coming in.” Gandalf said flatly, his gray eyes growing almost sad. Bilbo wondered at that. Thorin grunted.

“What about the tunnel? Can’t you blow up the northern tunnel, block their access?” Gandalf snorted at that, rubbing at his own thin gray beard.

“If it were that simple, don’t you think we would have done it years ago? Not many of the citizens know this, but blowing up the southern tunnel was a bad enough idea. The river flows right above that tunnel and the first time we went for it, there was a bit of flooding. Well, take that little bit of flooding and multiply it by 100. If we blow up that northern tunnel now, the whole station, hell maybe even down to Alekseevskaya or even Rizhskaya, will be drowned in a river of radioactive sludge.”

Thorin grew quiet once more, this time for longer. When he finally spoke again, his voice was heavy. “I’ve never heard of such things anywhere else in the metro. Something must be growing above ground on Botanicheskiy sad...something must be spawning them.” He paused, considering. “Your station seems terrified of them.”

Bilbo scoffed at that and as both men peered at him, he puffed out his cheeks. “It’s not them, it’s what they do to your mind. It’s not something easily explained.” He mumbled into his cup.

“Your companion seems to think them to be nothing but a story.”

“He’s new to the station. Only been here for a few months.” Bilbo explained, lightly sipping his tea while Gandalf watched Thorin quietly.

“We caught one about 5 months ago.” He said after a long moment and when Thorin’s attention diverted over to him, the older man continued. “They don’t speak, not in any language we knew. But they howl.” Bilbo shivered.

“It sounds like a siren...” He muttered and blanched visibly at the memory of his dream. Gandalf nodded thoughtfully.

“We tried feeding it, giving it water. Tried talking to it, beating it. Nothing.”

“It just sat there...and sometimes howled...” Bilbo breathed, the memory still bringing goosebumps to his flesh. “Before it died, its howl was like a funeral bell...” He whispered into his cup, not even sure if Thorin heard him. He did. The stranger considered the words for a moment before looking up at Gandalf.

“You’re used to new species, Gandalf.” Thorin said at length. “What do YOU think they are?”

“Evolution.”

“Meaning?”

“Just that. They’re the next step in evolution.” Gandalf said evenly and Bilbo peered at his god father curiously. “We’re no longer the top of the food chain, Thorin. We might as well be dinosaurs. Evolution has left us behind to rot in the mud while we try desperately to crawl our way through survival.” Thorin stayed quiet.  At length he spoke again, slowly.

“Are you saying you’d rather give up, Gandalf?”

“Quite the contrary. I may be old, but I’m not quite through clinging to life by the skin of my teeth.” Gandalf laughed faintly, taking a sip of tea and peering strangely between Thorin and Bilbo. “Yet, I wonder what it was that brought you here, Thorin? You don’t usually come to this neck of the woods for nothing.”

“Word through the grapevine has reached me of your station’s...problem. I was down at Pechatniki when I heard through a colleague. Had to investigate.” Bilbo started at those words. Pechatniki?! That station was all the way on the other side of the metro! He stared at Thorin. Just who and what was this man?

Gandalf smiled his all knowing smile. “Well, cowboy, if you think you can help somehow, be my guest. Far be it from me to chase you away.” He said leisurely as he finished his tea. Thorin grunted in response. They talked a bit longer but Bilbo found himself tuning out. He was still trying to figure Thorin out. The man was strange, dressed in a rather expensive looking coat that appeared to be hiding more than just muscle. And all those scars on his face. Sure, Bilbo had a few scrapes of his own from living down here but this was different. One ran diagonally across Thorin’s face and appeared quite deep and quite fresh. And no scar like that came from clambering through tunnels.

Who was he?!

Bilbo scrunched his face and stared into his cup until the scrapping of Thorin’s chair jolted him back into the moment. The man was leaving. Bilbo wanted to ask, really wanted to ask, but he also didn’t want be nosy. He would have let the man go if Thorin himself didn’t motion for Bilbo to follow him.

“Walk with me.” He said simply and Bilbo, shooting a look at Gandalf, slowly shuffled after the strange man.

“Just who are you? What do you do?” He blurted finally, no longer able to control himself and Thorin rubbed a hand through his short black hair, side glancing at Bilbo.

“Well, you know of the makeup of the human body, correct? The human body has certain functions and certain cells that carry out different tasks. Some cells are blood cells, they carry oxygen, some transmit commands to different parts of the body and some, are white blood cells, that fight off infection.”

Bilbo looked confused for a second at this analogy before it slowly dawned. “So your job is like a white blood cell...” He breathed gently and Thorin nodded, gently pointing at the scar that ran across his face.

“I am... a hunter." Thorin said evenly. "I weed out the creatures that endanger the whole populace. And it just so happens that these... particular creatures are not like any threat I've encounters before, and if you are right about them...they need to be stopped.”

“What do you intend to do?” Bilbo asked, almost breathlessly and Thorin scowled slightly, flicking at the holster of his pistol in agitation.

“For the moment...I don’t know. I need to see one. I need to think.”

“...You want to see one..?”

“I NEED to. There’s an odd atmosphere on this station. It's stifling. The fear runs deep. It’s as if the people’s minds are infected. I need to see what’s causing this infection.” He looked down at Bilbo, studying him thoughtfully. “You said you’ve seen them before?” He asked quietly and Bilbo nodded before frowning.

“Wait, wait, even if I have, I am not going down there and escorting you or whatever it is you’re thinking so don’t even start.” He rambled out quickly, Thorin quirking an eyebrow.

“No?”

“No.”

“Who said I was going to ask?”

Bilbo grunted, frowning. “I’m not a complete fool.” He said simply and he could swear the corners of Thorin’s lips tugged only slightly upward before quickly darting back down.

“Think on it.” He said simply before bidding Bilbo a good day and disappearing into the guest tent, leaving the shorter man to gape after him.

Didn’t he just say no? He didn’t want any part of trudging past the 700 meter mark in the northern tunnel that lead to Botanicheskiy sad and ESPECIALLY not to see those things again. It was suicide!

...And yet, the Tookish part of him craved adventure. It wanted to run out into the tunnels and into the darkness. It was the very part of him that always wanted to journey beyond the confines of his home station.

Bilbo sucked in his cheeks. He was being silly again. There was nothing for him out there. He heard enough stories to know better than to gallivant around the metro like some nutter. And part of him was a little more than scared. His Baggins side insisted he was better off staying here. That all that waited for him out there was danger and fear and never ending darkness. Why go? You have friends here, you have people you respect dearly, thought his inner Baggins and Bilbo was inclined to agree.

But that resolve didn’t last long.

It was later that day that Thorin heard a faint knock against the pavement outside his tent. And there was Bilbo, all resolve to stay at his station gone under the promise of adventure. He squared his jaw and puffed out his cheeks.

“I’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note- the "sad" in "Botanicheskiy sad" is a hard A, reads more like an "ah" sound. It's translated to "Botanical gardens." 
> 
> I haaaate writing exposition. I always feel like it takes away from the pace. 
> 
> Sorry if this chapter is boring and thanks so much for reading!


	3. For my home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your station referencing needs, here is a map of the metro since stations are going to be named a lot and it's handy to know where they are in regards to one another- [ Metro Map ](http://14octobre.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/metro_guide_eng.gif)
> 
> Also, picture of [ Botanicheskiy sad ](http://www.metro.ru/stations/kaluzhsko-rizhskaya/botanichesky_sad/) and [ VDNH ](http://www.metro.ru/stations/kaluzhsko-rizhskaya/vdnh/) for reference. 
> 
> The weapon Bilbo is carrying is a Kalash (or Kalashnikov) AK-74 M
> 
> Also, Polis (Short for Metropolis, not misspelling of Police) is the center of the Metro.
> 
> Everything will be explained in more detailed in later chapters, I promise!

“What caused this change of heart?” Thorin asked at last as he sat back down on his cot, making Bilbo grimace and shiver.

“My father always did say I had more guts than sense.” He grumbled, even if he felt far from gutsy at this very moment, nervously eyeing the trigger of his Kalash. He wasn’t about to admit that after his shift at the tea factory, he came back home. And spilled the beans to Gandalf. To his surprise, his god father regarded him calmly and, lowering the book he was reading from his eyes, quirked an eyebrow.

“Will you go?” He asked evenly.

“You’re...not forbidding it..?”

Gandalf laughed and set his book aside. “My dear Bilbo, you’re an adult now. What you do is up to you.” Bilbo grimaced. It would have made his decision considerably easier had Gandalf forbidden him from going. But the old man was right. Bilbo was 28. He could make his own decisions... even if they weren’t always the best or smartest.

“You’re supposed to make this difficult for me...” Bilbo frowned, sighing and rubbing at his curls.

“You ARE a Took. Adventure is in your blood.” Gandalf pointed out, making Bilbo grimace deeper.

“I’m also a Baggins. Father always said that adventures made you late for supper.” He grumbled, making Gandalf laugh.

“I am certain the mushrooms will wait for you.”

“Gandalf...”

Standing, the older man moved closer to Bilbo, resting a hand against his shoulder. “It’s not easy. But nothing important ever is. I think Thorin will need your help more than he realizes.”

“MY help?!” Bilbo breathed incredulously.

“Even the strongest person may need help.” Gandalf said evenly before pulling Bilbo into a hug. When he let the younger man go, he smiled, almost sadly.

“Think on it. I will be leaving soon. The rest is up to you.” Bilbo watched Gandalf’s face, a little confused but didn’t have the heart to ask. Instead, he managed a smile. He wasn’t sure why, but it helped.

“Thank you...” There was so much more he wanted to say. So much more he wanted to thank Gandalf for but the words never came and Bilbo let the older man return to his book while stumbling back out of the tent. Maybe, hopefully, he’d get the chance again. And it was after this, and after roaming the platform for a bit, Bilbo found Thorin again.

His father was right about him; more guts than sense.

Thorin studied Bilbo quietly before nodding. “Go get your things.” He said simply before pulling forward his own giant pack. On exit, Bilbo managed a glance inside. It was tightly packed with enough weapons and ammo to take on a small army. Swallowing a nervous lump in his throat, Bilbo had to remind himself that Thorin was indeed a hunter and trudged off back to his tent.

It was empty now, Gandalf’s pack missing from the corner and Bilbo felt a strange twinge of sadness as he gathered his own things. Flashlight, batteries, more batteries, some food, spare ammo...even more batteries. Surely, that would be enough.

By the time he finished and found Thorin, the hunter was on the tracks leading away from the station, his giant pack hoisted over his shoulders. Bilbo hustled to join him and without a word, or even a glance in his direction, Thorin started off, leaving Bilbo no other choice but to run after him. And really, wasn’t HE supposed to be showing the hunter the way?

Regardless, for the moment he let Thorin lead, walking quietly beside him. They passed the watch posts with little problem and Bilbo discovered that Thorin had quite the charming side when it came to getting what he needed. The watchmen looked worriedly at Bilbo but he reassured them with a smile and trotted off after the hunter once more, not feeling up to getting questioned. Sometimes, there was a bit of a downside to living on a station where you knew and worried about everyone. It tended to get annoying when trying to escape unnecessary questions.

Questions like; where he was going? Who exactly was the man he was with? Did Gandalf know about this?

Those questions...

As they drew further and further away from the warm light of the fire, Bilbo felt his nerves building. What did he expect? They were going to venture well past the 700 meter mark of the tunnel and the horrific realization of that made the curly haired man grip tightly at his flashlight. Thorin walked quietly beside him, the light of his flashlight slowly flicking from wall to wall before plunging into the darkness of the tunnel before them.

“What do you expect to find there?” Bilbo braved to ask at last, fingers of his free hand tightening on the grip of the Kalash. Thorin didn’t answer for the longest time, looking thoughtful when Bilbo peered at him.

“A nest perhaps.” He said at last, still gazing down the tunnel. Bilbo shivered. That’s what he hoped NOT to find there. He would be ever so grateful if the nest of those...things...wasn’t THAT close to his home.

“Gracious, I hope not...” He breathed aloud. Thorin shot him a look.

“How else would you explain why they’re at your station and nowhere else?” He asked Bilbo evenly and earned a faint mutter in response. Thorin’s eyes returned to the tunnel. “They have to be spawning from somewhere. Only when we know where they originate from, will we know how to deal with them properly.” He added and Bilbo heard a light click as the hunter took the safety off. They were nearing the 700 meter mark.

Bilbo felt a chill take him. Not even the strongest soldiers journeyed this far. And here he was. Travelling with a man he barely knew into the depth of their northern tunnel. Really; more guts than sense. Thorin didn’t speak and Bilbo had to find a way to calm his nerves.

The tunnel was dark and the closer they got to the 700 meter cut off point, the deeper the darkness seem to grow. It swallowed the faint lights of their flashlights not even a few feet ahead of them and Bilbo found himself needing to squint more often than naught. The dull trudge of his feet grew muffled in his own ears while Thorin moved with a practiced silence beside him, his scarred up face drawn with concentration. Bilbo kept quiet as best as he could while his brain frantically screamed at him. Just run, you fool! Turn around and run the other way!

But he didn’t. Stubbornness and a morbid sense of curiosity made him trudge on, clipping the flashlight to his jacket and hoisting his Kalash up in both hands. There it was. They reached the 700 meter mark. Bilbo shivered and shrunk into his jacket while Thorin slunk forward cautiously. The look on his face was unreadable. Carefully, he stepped passed the marker and Bilbo forgot how to breathe. Another step and Thorin was gone from sight. Even the light of his flashlight was swallowed by the encroaching darkness. Still, Bilbo couldn’t force himself to move for the longest time.

And the silence deepened. It was as if someone dipped him headfirst in water and was holding him under. Bilbo could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

Thump thump.

Was he still breathing?

Thump thump.

It’s so dark.

Thump thump thump.

Bilbo, you fool, what were you thinking agreeing to this?

“Thorin..?” Bilbo croaked in the darkness and got nothing in reply. His heart hammered loudly in his ears. And soon, another noise joined it. It was so quiet and matched his heartbeat almost perfectly but Bilbo, after a few moments, was able to tell that it wasn’t coming from him. A low rumble and an even lower hiss just barely echoed through the darkness. As Bilbo focused on it, it seemed to grow a little louder, then quieter then louder again. And underneath it, came a soft, high pitched squeal.

“You hear it too?” Breathed a voice from right next to Bilbo’s ear, making him shriek and jump aside. Thorin cleared his throat and quirked an eyebrow at his companion as the beam of Bilbo’s flashlight landed on his scarred face.

“Warn a person!” Bilbo snapped as his heart raced in his chest before slowly forcing himself to close his eyes and rub his face with one quivering hand.

“Breathe.” Thorin said simply before his eyes traveled down the tunnel. He didn’t look afraid but Bilbo was starting to discover that the stoic hunter’s face never revealed his emotions. He swallowed, and let his eyes follow Thorin’s gaze.

“What is it?” He asked at last as he finally forced himself to follow Thorin once more.

“The tunnels.”

“...The tunnels?”

Thorin grunted gently, adjusting his hold on his gun. “In the darkest places, you can hear the tunnels.” He said quietly. “They have voices of their own. It takes a special ear to hear it.” With those words, he shot Bilbo a look, which the smaller man wasn’t sure how to take.

“They’re just tunnels.” Bilbo commented with a meek laugh, trying not to believe that the metropolitan itself would have its own voice. It was too unsettling of a concept. Like they were all living in the belly of some horrific beast. Thorin grunted.

“You don’t really think that.” He said plainly before allowing Bilbo a little ahead of himself. Bilbo dreaded this moment but managed to force himself to walk forward, shinning the light of his little flashlight down the tunnel and around the walls. All was still. He heard the ever so faint trudge of Thorin’s feet and his own nervous steps as he had to force himself forward.

Come on Bilbo, you’re the guide. Act like it.

It’s not like this was the first time he was down this tunnel. Not that Bilbo cared to remember the very first time he came here; alone and unarmed, and sobbing quietly under his nose as he ran from the station. How the patrols and the watch didn’t catch him, he never did figure out. He would never admit to Thorin or to anyone just how far he came in this tunnel, 13 years old and terrified, not knowing what danger he ran to. How he reached Botanicheskiy sad... How desperately he wanted to get to the surface.

Someone once told him that when people died, their spirit went above. Out of the tunnels and out of the metro and into the sky. Bilbo had not seen the sky in 5 years and at 13, he was still willing to believe anything. It was the day his mother passed. It was nothing dramatic. No one shot her and no monster attacked her. She had been sick from radiation for some time and lingered on for years, before quietly passing in her sleep.

Bilbo remembered that day. Now he was thankful that he got to spend those years with her. Thankful to Gandalf for taking him in. But that day; 13 and scared out of his wits and crying his little eyes out, he bolted. And ran too far.

Yet that run must have caused quite the impression. Or at least the return journey did. He still knew where to turn and where to stop and what fork to take. Thorin chose his guide well. Even if said guide was not too keen on making the journey a second time.

They walked in silence for what seemed like hours but Bilbo was always comforted by the faint crunch of Thorin’s boots against the dirt by the rusting rails. The light creak of his leather gloves as his fingers clenched around his weapon.

Despite their need for silence, Bilbo desperately wanted to speak. Wanted to ask Thorin so many things. But he held his tongue. Every time he peered over his shoulder at the hunter, the man seemed to be incredibly concentrated on listening to the tunnel. However, as they walked and drew closer to the station, Bilbo saw Thorin fiddle more and more with his gun. The hunter was getting more nervous or agitated and it made Bilbo nervous as well. He was nowhere as good at fighting as Thorin seemed to be. He silently hoped it was just paranoia.

After about half an hour more, Thorin froze. Bilbo heard the crunch of his boots stop behind him and he stopped in midstep, peering back over his shoulder.

“Tho...” But Thorin didn’t let him finish, grabbing him suddenly and somehow finding one of the small side tunnels, yanking Bilbo into the darkness. As Bilbo was about to protest, a leather clad hand pressed tightly to his mouth and a faint “shhhhhh” hissed into his ear, free hand quickly flicking off both of their flashlights. Bilbo froze. The older man quite literally pressed him against the wall of this new tunnel, hand still covering his mouth to prevent any questions. Bilbo’s heavy breathing hissed through his nose before Thorin breathed out an even fainter “shhhhh.” Then Bilbo heard it.

The faint flap of feet against dirt. The faint hissing of breath through large nostrils. And Bilbo knew immediately what it was. Even before seeing the faint shape of it; its black skin gleaming with an odd sheen and feeling that same fear tickle at the back of his mind. How didn’t he notice it sooner?! It took all the effort in him to stifle his heavy breathing. Thorin remained silent and still, turning his head just so, his face incredibly close to Bilbo’s. Bilbo hadn’t noticed it before, but situations like this must have been why the hunter wore all black clothing. He blended into the darkness and with the way he stood in front of Bilbo, he hid the smaller man from any eyes more adapted to this lack of light.

They remained that way for what seemed like forever before Bilbo felt that fear ebb first a little, than more until he felt nothing and heard nothing. Carefully, Thorin pushed away from him, pulling his hand back. Bilbo almost collapsed against him, letting out a shaky breath.

“Gracious...” He muttered, the hunter staring down the tunnel.

“That was..?”

“Yes.”  Bilbo affirmed shakily, his own gaze dashing down the tunnel as well before looking up at Thorin, trying to spot him in the darkness. When Thorin finally turned his flashlight on, Bilbo hissed faintly, eyes taking time to adjust. The hunter looked actually shaken.

“...That was unlike anything...” He trailed off weakly. Bilbo finally straightened and Thorin finally looked at him. “I...apologize...for...the lack of boundaries.” He said at last.

Bilbo smiled weakly “Could be worse.” He shrugged before finally flicking on his flashlight and peering down the tunnel. It was quiet again but Bilbo shivered and carefully grabbed hold of his Kalash from where it dangled off his shoulder. Thorin let him lead again, at first in silence.

“This isn’t your first time here.” The hunter said after a while and Bilbo flinched.

“What makes you say that..?”

“I would have gotten us lost. Yet you guided us here without problem.” Thorin pointed out evenly, studying said guide. Bilbo said nothing. He wasn’t about spill his whole life story to this man, who was still a stranger. Especially since that particular story was deeply personal.

But Thorin didn’t seem to need him to say anything. And he guessed better than most.

They walked side by side now, Bilbo finding at least a little bit of comfort from the hunter’s confident presence beside him. He would never admit it, heavens no. One more deeply personal thing that Bilbo wanted to keep to himself.

When the edge of the station became visible, their pace slowed and Thorin dug around his pack, producing two gas masks.“We won’t be above for long.” He muttered gruffly before hauling himself up onto the platform, Bilbo slowly following suit. Where the giant biohazard gates had been that blocked access into the station, nothing remained but a few broken chunks of metal, lying on the cracking marble floor. The station itself was deserted, littered with the hints of former human life. The floor was piled with pieces of broken toys, ripped up tents and burnt up remnants of long forgotten books.  Bilbo shakily pulled the gas mask over his face, already feeling the faint tickle of wind as it breezed its way through the wide opening where the biohazard gate used to be. He definitely remembered this place. And definitely remembered why the barrier had been opened in the first place.

Thorin trudged closer to the opening, raising his gun at the ready and motioning for Bilbo to follow. They could see the broken escalator that lead the way up to the vestibule above and slowly, Thorin began to climb. Bilbo, not wanting to be left on the station alone, followed hesitantly after. The steps were rusting and broken and some wouldn’t support their full weight, breaking away with an incredibly loud screech before falling through the broken conveyer belt below. Bilbo almost lost his footing twice and grabbed onto the stumpy remnants of the lamps that used to light the way on either side of the escalator.

By the time they reached the vestibule, Bilbo was panting heavily through his gas mask and whipping at the already fogged up protective glass. How lucky they were that it was night time. For people whose eyes had adapted to the pale light of fires, red emergency lights and tiny hand held flashlights, the sun would have seared out their vision completely. But it was cold, and dark, the wind lightly rustling through their hair and making old pieces of torn newspaper dance through the air.

Finally catching his breath, Bilbo was able to look around. The vestibule was all but falling apart, half its ceiling caved in to the floor below. Yet it wasn’t the crumbling walls, or the decaying trees that caught Bilbo’s gaze. It was the stars. In all of his memories of that night 20 years ago, Bilbo never remembered the stars looking quite so beautiful. It knocked the air out of him as he stood there, gaping so hard he thought his jaw would have hit his knees, were it not for the gas mask. No radioactive clouds hung above to obscure the view. The infinite beauty of stars; little tiny silver lights glinting millions of miles away from them was something no child of the metro would ever know. And it was something that Bilbo would forever treasure.

He must have stood there for a good 5 minutes before Thorin’s hand on his shoulder jerked him back to the moment. Right...that’s not what they were there for. The hunter looked almost uneasy.

“I see nothing here. It must be further out.” He said slowly, voice hissing through the mask’s filter.

“That’s...we can’t go out there!” Bilbo muttered, frowning. They weren’t rangers! They weren’t equipped for surface exploration. Even coming out here, right now, was probably a terrible idea. Thorin hissed his displeasure.

“We have to go back... this won’t do.”

Bilbo’s frown remained but he said nothing for the moment. Something else caught his attention and, canting his head to the side, he listened. An odd noise echoed in the air. Like a light little song and Bilbo, not being able to stop himself, moved in its direction. He moved slowly and carefully but Thorin caught him by the arm.

“Bilbo?”

“It’s beautiful...” The smaller man muttered before looking up at Thorin. “Isn’t it?”

Thorin’s face barely cracked in a frown. “What are you talking about?”

It was Bilbo’s turn to frown. “You don’t hear it? There’s...music.” He said at last, trying to properly categorize his feelings about it. Thorin’s frown deepened for a moment.

“Music?” He asked.

“Music.” Bilbo affirmed, a stupid smile spreading over his face, even if Thorin couldn’t see it. But the expression in the hunter’s eyes suddenly changed and, grabbing Bilbo quickly by the arm, he led the way back to the escalator.

“Our business is no longer here.” He said at his own sudden action. “We need to go to the Polis.”

“What?! Polis?! But why?” Bilbo spluttered as Thorin dragged him along. The hunter stopped right at the top of the escalator, measuring Bilbo with an even look.

“Whatever these things are coming from, must be bigger than the station. We need to go to Polis. We need a plan and tools to fulfill that plan.”

“That’s...quite the trip though.” Bilbo muttered uneasily. He would have protested further if a howl somewhere in the distance didn’t alert them of their danger. They began to climb down quickly, Bilbo trying and failing to keep up with Thorin. They didn’t stop until they reached the station below, moving quickly over the platform and back down to the tracks.

Thorin appeared dead set on his plan and Bilbo, after yanking off his gas mask and recovering his breath was finally able to question it. “What tools do you mean, exactly?” He breathed as he caught up with the hunter’s strides.

“They say that only there are there plans to find better weapons. If we have the means to look for them.” Was the cryptic answer that didn’t help Bilbo or soothe his nerves at all. But he quieted and trotted along with the hunter, almost nonstop until they returned to the 450 meter marker for VDNH’s watch. Bilbo was ever so grateful that it wasn’t Bofur’s shift. His friend would have surely pounced on him with questions.

When they finally reached the platform again, Thorin turned and studied Bilbo thoroughly. “You do not ACTUALLY have to come with me to Polis. I must thank you for your help.” He said evenly before digging something out of his pack and shoving two cartridges of ammo into Bilbo’s hand.

Bilbo gapped. “You’re paying me?”

“You risked your life to guide me. I appreciate it.” The hunter said evenly and turned to leave when Bilbo caught him by the wrist.

“I want to come with you.” He said hurriedly and when Thorin’s eyebrows winged up, the younger man almost blushed. “It’s my home.” He sputtered in embarrassment. “I want to help it.”

Studying Bilbo for a quiet moment, Thorin slowly and finally nodded. “Get some rest. We leave early tomorrow.” He said at last before leaving Bilbo alone with his thoughts. It was only a few minutes later and on his way back to his tent that Bilbo realized what he had signed himself up for. Again.

Fool, Bilbo Baggins. It’s like you want to die beside this strange man with gorgeous blue eyes. Sputtering at his own inner thoughts and pushing the ammo into his pack, Bilbo went off to seek some sleep, hoping for all hopes that he would manage to get any at all.

Tomorrow would be one hell of a day.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say "unrequited puppy crush"? Ohohohooh. 
> 
> I think I failed to realize just how much detail I need to include so I'm really sorry if parts come out sounding stupid. It's a lot of information and in my world building I don't wanna cram it. 
> 
> I can't thank the people enough for reading! Honestly, I didn't think anyone would read my argle bargle of a story, haha. So thank you so much!


	4. Voice of the tunnels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your station referencing needs, here is a map of the metro since stations are going to be named a lot and it's handy to know where they are in regards to one another- [ Metro Map ](http://14octobre.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/metro_guide_eng.gif)
> 
> Also, picture of [ Botanicheskiy sad ](http://www.metro.ru/stations/kaluzhsko-rizhskaya/botanichesky_sad/) and [ VDNH ](http://www.metro.ru/stations/kaluzhsko-rizhskaya/vdnh/) for reference. 
> 
> "sad" in Russian ( as in Botanicheskiy sad and Aleksandrovskiy sad) reads with a hard A sound (read it as sahd). It means "garden."

Bofur somehow managed to find him the next day anyway. As Bilbo was getting ready and packing up his things early that morning, his hat wearing friend all but barged into his tent uninvited, making Bilbo practically jump out of his skin.

“You’re going with that guy, aren’t you?!” Bofur demanded without prelude as Bilbo blinked stupidly at him, folded up sweater currently in his hands. Sod those blasted watchmen! He grumbled. Bofur’s normally jolly face broke into a frown.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Bofur...”

“The watchmen told me last night!”

“Come on...”

“I talked it over with Gloin and we’re coming with you.”

“You can’t stop m...wait, what?”

Bofur looked overly proud of himself. “We’re coming with you. We don’t know who that guy is and what he really wants. And you’re an idiot for agreeing to go alone with him in the first place.” He reprimanded, wagging a finger at Bilbo. Bilbo in turn, rolled his eyes and measured his friend with a slightly exasperated look.

“You know we’re not going on a picnic, right?

“Ah, were that it was so.” Bofur grinned his cheeky grin, thumbing at his nose. “You don’t have to be insulting though. I’m sure I know these tunnels far better than a certain someone.” He shot Bilbo a pointed look, which the younger man chose to ignore with all his might. Bofur chuckled.

And really, Bilbo wasn’t against the idea. At all. He cared very much for Bofur and for Gloin and having them along would do wonders to soothe his nerves. He was still quite determined not to seem utterly useless in Thorin’s eyes and hoped that maybe he could even teach himself to be brave.

Even so, he grumbled at Bofur and shooed the man from his tent as he set to finishing getting ready. He was sure to pack some spare clothes and even more spare equipment, as much as he could carry. He didn’t want to accidentally pack too much or too little and end up complaining the whole journey. That certainly wouldn’t earn him points.

It didn’t take Bilbo long to finish and, setting his pack aside, he took one final look around the tent. His tent. It had been his home for years and years. Since his parents migrated to VDNH when he was still 10. First, he lived here with them. Then he lived here with Gandalf. Bilbo silently wished that he had gotten a chance to see his god father again before their departure. The man who had raised him after his parents’ passing. The man who, while Bilbo never admitted it aloud, had become almost a father to him. He took one final and hesitant stroll around the tent before snatching his pack from the floor and departing without a backwards glance.

Don’t turn back or you’ll never leave.

He had to repeat that in his head. Over and over, until he reached the guest tent. Thorin was already packed and looking not too pleased about their two new additions. Even if he said nothing on the subject. Bilbo just smiled sheepishly and shrugged as Bofur and Gloin joined them. Bofur looked horribly pleased with himself and Gloin had to fight the urge to laugh at his companion’s exuberance. And Bilbo felt more and more pleased to have them along. Thorin was definitely not a good conversationalist.

They started off without much delay, Gloin falling back to stroll alongside Bilbo while Bofur wearily walked beside Thorin, eyeing the hunter suspiciously. Gloin shot Bilbo a look.

“So, how much do you actually know about ‘im?” The bearded man asked quietly, making Bilbo lean in to hear him.

Bilbo shrugged.“He’s good friends with Gandalf. And he’s a hunter.”

“A what?”

“You know...he kills the monsters that keep invading the metro.”

Gloin grunted and considered. “Not doing a very good job with our problem, is he?” He chuckled.

“What do you imagine we’re going to Polis for?” Came the sudden question from Thorin and both Bilbo and Gloin snapped out their conversation, a bit startled. They had been whispering back and forth and for Thorin to hear...ears of a fox, that one.

Gloin grunted and furrowed his bushy brows. Thorin took his silence for an answer and continued. “This is unlike any threat I’ve ever seen. And requires larger tools than I’m able to carry.” He said flatly and Bilbo was suddenly hit with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea why. Gloin didn’t look ready to let it go at that.

“What kind of tools?”

“Ones that one person can’t carry on them.” Thorin replied flatly, closing the subject for the moment. Gloin didn’t look satisfied with that answer but let it go while Bilbo chewed nervously on his lip. He wanted to help, really he did. But why did his stomach writhe nervously all of the sudden? Just what kind of tools were these?

They traveled between VDNH and Alekseevskaya without incident; Thorin their stoic and silent guide while Gloin and Bofur talked quietly between themselves. Bilbo said nothing. His thoughts were in turmoil. This would be the first time that he would go past Rizhskaya. The first time he would ever get to see Polis. He remembered Gandalf telling him of it. The wonder it arose in most citizens of the metro. For it wasn’t just the center of the metropolitan.

“It’s a real city, Bilbo my lad.” Gandalf had told him, smiling wistfully. “It’s the last place on this earth where humans live like humans. Where the word ‘humanity’ means something beyond the mere instinct to survive. It’s civilization.”

Bilbo had always heard stories from passing traders. Polis. The last cultural beacon of humanity. The place that had the most amazing people. Teachers, artists, writers, scientists and physicists were welcome in Polis while no other station thought to keep them safe. Polis itself occupied 4 stations; Borovitskaya, Aleksandrovskiy sad, Arbatskaya and Biblioteka Imeni Lenina. These four stations were the very heart of humanity now and also happened to be located right under the Library built in Lenin’s name.

It gave Bilbo the chills. He had always loved to read. Always craved knowledge and felt a severe lack of either on VDNH. Sure, they were literate, unlike some other stations. They knew their letters and math and some science but it paled in comparison to the knowledge that dwelt in Polis. Bilbo thought that the promise of that knowledge may have been part of the reason why he said he’d help Thorin. It was a bit selfish, he realized. He still wished to help the hunter, and help his station but... Books. If Bilbo had one true passion for something; it was books.

He and Gandalf had a few. Some rare books Gandalf was able to find on his journeys through the metro and Bilbo had the hardest time in leaving them behind. Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Chekhov. Writers whose names would soon disappear from the peoples’ lexicon altogether. It was a sad realization, Bilbo considered with a frown, but one that was probably true.

Thorin’s hand on his shoulder suddenly snapped him out of his thoughts. They had reached the cordon that marked 450 meters for Alekseevskaya and Gloin was currently talking to the leader of their watch. Bilbo smiled sheepishly.

“That was...quick...” He muttered before Gloin gestured them through the cordon, following after his older friend while Thorin brought up the rear. The inhabitants of Alekseevskaya were in a far sorrier state than VDNH. The population of the station was miniscule and even after they had joined with VDNH and Rizhskaya, the state of the station wasn’t far better than it had been before the union. Still, the union was fairly new, and the stations traded between each other and kept each other’s borders relatively safe.

They rested only a little before Thorin insisted they continue. Bilbo was loathe to leave but the station was in such a sorry state that staying there didn’t seem beneficial. Still, he hoped things would improve for them. There was only so long a person could live like that...

The passage between Alekseevskaya and Rizhskaya was far longer than the one from VDNH and they continued down the tracks in silence, the beam of Thorin’s flashlight flicking from wall to wall. Bofur brought up the rear. But Bilbo began to notice that the further they got down the tunnel, the more the older man’s gaze dashed back over his shoulder. At first, it happened only a few times but soon, it became a frequent occurrence and Bofur couldn’t take two steps without hurriedly peering over his shoulder. Bilbo swiveled on his heel, getting a good look at the tunnel behind them and, shooting Bofur a friendly smile, tried to reassure his friend.

“There’s nothing there.” He promised, shinning the light of his flashlight into the gloom. Bofur smiled nervously and nodded but as Bilbo went to turn back around, he saw Bofur’s gaze dash back down the tunnel once more.

“Tunnel fear” they called it. A phenomenon that happened quite often to lonely travelers; especially those with bad flashlights. An odd little tickle in the back of a person’s mind, an odd little pressure that almost seemed like someone, or something was watching them. Or maybe not even watching. Who knows how creatures perceived the world around them? But it was a feeling that grew and grew, until you weren’t able to take it anymore and swiveled around lightning fast to find... nothing. Quiet. Emptiness.  The perfect darkness of the tunnel quickly illuminated by the tiny light of a flashlight.

So you peer into the gloom, searching for what caused that feeling while behind you, that feeling builds again. It’s always behind you, always crushing and muddling your thoughts. The most important thing was to never lose yourself to that feeling. To reassure yourself that it was all in your head and the tunnels were indeed empty.

Yet many a lonely traveler succumbed to the fear and, unable to calm themselves down they would bolt for the nearest station, shrieking in terror. And only there, and only under the red emergency lights and the warmth of the watch fires would they realize how silly they had been. Yet they couldn’t force themselves back into the tunnel again.

Bilbo watched Bofur wearily as his hat wearing friend continued nervously dashing his gaze behind himself.

“Bofur, it’s fine.” He tried again at the 20th time it happened but the other seemed less and less convinced. Bilbo frowned and taking Bofur’s hand, made the older man walk before him. Tunnel fear, that’s all it was. It would pass.

Still, the tunnel seemed strangely untraveled for being the main connection between Alekseevskaya and Rizhskaya and Bilbo began to wonder at it. The further down they got, the more he felt like he could hear something, seemingly coming from the tunnel ahead. A faint little whine that at first started out as a noise almost beyond human hearing. It crept up slowly and Bilbo wasn’t sure when he first started to actually hear it. When he finally registered it, it shrieked over the walls of the tunnel like a whistling, high pitched whisper; undecipherable and not human.

Bilbo froze in his steps and stared at the others. Surely, they could hear it too. But their expressions didn’t reassure him of that. They continued walking in steady rhythm, Bofur’s shoulders stiff with nerves. The high pitched whispers grew and Bilbo felt the first inklings of fear. They didn’t hear anything?! Nothing?! How was that possible? The noises were so loud and so clear! It was getting harder to think and to rationalize and the whispers boomed in his ears until he stumbled and stopped again. He must have made a noise because the light of Bofur’s flashlight was on him in an instant.

“Bilbo?” Thorin stopped a few steps ahead of them, looking back as Bofur rushed to Bilbo’s side.

“What is it?”

“You don’t hear anything?” Bilbo managed to filter through his teeth. Bofur’s concerned expression grew but he took a moment to peer around, shinning the light of his flashlight over the walls and listening. Thorin frowned.

“Something wrong?” He asked, seemingly a little annoyed by the delay but Bilbo’s eyes met his; lost and more than a little confused. Thorin frowned.

“You don’t hear anything either?” Bilbo asked, voice strained as it was taking some effort to speak. Thorin studied Bilbo’s face for a few moments before standing stock still, finger ghosting over the trigger of his gun as he squinted into the gloom and listened.

And the noise returned again. This time louder, echoing and swimming in magnitude and Bilbo swore he could catch the tail ends of words. Again, it was getting hard to think but Bilbo tried his best, staring intently into Thorin’s face. Surely, he could hear something! This was Thorin. Perceptive, well trained Thorin. There was no way he’d miss something like this. But the longer he stared into the hunter’s features the more he saw frown lines smooth over and the finger on the trigger relax. Bilbo’s feelings of confusion were replaced by pure bewilderment.

“You could be hallucinating.” The hunter breathed at last, even while looking unsure of the words and motioning for them to get moving again. Bilbo’s bewilderment grew. He wasn’t hallucinating! He could hear the noise as well as he could hear them speaking. But they heard nothing? Slowly, he forced himself to walk while the whispers hissed in his ears, their high pitched echoes growing impossible to ignore.

Was he going crazy?

Even through his worries, Bilbo began to notice as Bofur kept tugging at his ear, slapping at it occasionally.

“Bofur?”

“Hell, is the darndest thing! It’s like I’m in the water, my ears keep plugging.” Bofur frowned, trying to pick at his ear. Bilbo frowned, coming a bit closer to the older man while the whispers hissed and shrieked in his ears, growing to the point of agony. But as they reached its highest pitch, Bilbo began to finally understand where they were coming from. Further down the tunnel, against one of its walls, ran pipes of varying thicknesses. As Bilbo squinted into the darkness, he could make out that one of the communication pipes had burst and it was from this dark and jagged opening that the strange whispers were coming from. The noise flowed from its very depths and just as Bilbo tried to figure out what exactly was making it; he could see no wires, no speakers, just empty blackness, the heavy fall of Gloin’s boots stopped suddenly in front of Bofur. The bearded man suddenly looked exhausted and rubbed at his eyes, frowning.

“’Ey lads, let’s stop here for a moment. Feel dead on my feet...” He muttered with a lot of effort, and as Bilbo looked at him, his eyes looked terribly bloodshot. “Just one moment...” He breathed tiredly, taking one step towards Bilbo before keeling over and falling face first onto the rails. Bilbo let out a frantic cry and rushed to his friend just as Bofur suddenly sat straight down on the rails and began to wail. Bilbo, bewildered and lost, tried to spot Thorin and saw the hunter as he continued to walk down the tunnel. But he walked slowly, and strangely unsteady and when Bilbo cried out his name, he didn’t respond, his eyes pointed to the roof of the tunnel.

Bilbo panicked. The whispering shrieking noise was at its peak and he could barely hear anything. Plugging up his ears helped a little and Bilbo took off running after Thorin. Luckily because the hunter walked slowly, Bilbo caught up to him quickly, grabbing the hunter by his wrist and seeing that he hadn’t been looking at the roof of the tunnel at all. His eyes were drawn shut and Bilbo, panicking even more, quickly reached up, dragging one of his eyes open and shinning the beam of the flashlight right into it. Thorin let out a sudden noise, both his eyes snapping open as he stared at Bilbo without actually seeing him. Letting out a tiny noise of fear in the back of his throat, Bilbo quickly grabbed Thorin’s wrist and dragged him back to the others.

“Stay!” He commanded, having to shout over the noise in his ears without making the connection that he was the only one who could hear it. Leaving Thorin next to Gloin’s collapsed body, Bilbo dashed over to Bofur. He sat on the rails and sobbed quite loudly and when Bilbo fell to his knees before him, he met the most devastated gaze he could ever imagine. Bofur’s expression was so anguished and lost that Bilbo was taken aback, jerking away from his friend.

“They’re all dead! It hurt them so much!” The hat wearing man wailed loudly but as Bilbo tried to pull him up his feet, Bofur yanked back from him, spitting out venomously.

“No! Get away from me, you swine! Murderer! I’m not going with you! They’re hurting! They’re hurting so much! I’m not going with you! I’m staying here!” He stared wild eyed at Bilbo. “It’s your fault!” He shrieked and tried to beat Bilbo back. “I’m staying!”

Bilbo had to fight every instinct to slap Bofur a good one but in the other’s current state there was a huge chance he would get a slap right back, and possibly harder. Clearing his throat and drawing his hands away from Bofur, Bilbo tried very hard to speak gently. The shrieking whispers in his ears continued and it was incredibly difficult to maintain a quiet tone. He could barely hear himself.

“But you want to help them, don’t you?”

Whipping his eyes, Bofur stared at Bilbo. “Of course I do.”

“They said they want you to help me. Can you do that?”

“They...they said that?” Bofur asked suspiciously and Bilbo offered him his best reassuring smile.

“They did.”

“And then I can come back?”

“I promise.”

Studying Bilbo wearily, Bofur finally nodded and allowed the curly haired man to drag him to his feet. Still smiling reassuringly, Bilbo pointed to Gloin and delegated to Bofur how to fireman carry the man through the tunnel while he had to practically haul Thorin along by the hand. He didn’t exactly resist, but he was practically no help and walked slowly to the point where Bilbo had to go around him and push him from the back. He switched every once in a while, his gun still in his hand but all he knew was that they had to leave. Had to get out of this terrible place as quickly as possible.

The screeching, almost deafening shriek of whispers was slowly beginning to fade in the distance and Bilbo felt Thorin’s gate speed up. Soon enough they were within throwing distance of the first watch on Rizhskaya and the hunter froze, staring at Bilbo, who still clutched his hand.

“...Bilbo?” He asked slowly while there was a loud groan from Bofur, who slowly lowered Gloin to the rails. Gloin was waking up.

Bilbo, relieved and more than a little exhausted, almost collapsed, letting out a little laugh. “Oh thank heavens! I thought it would never fade!”  He said instead, doubling over to heave for air. Thorin shakily rubbed his face.

“Strangest thing... I was walking and suddenly my mind clouded...and my thoughts didn’t seem my own anymore and I just... kept walking. I heard him crying about something...” He added, jabbing his thumb at Bofur who looked more than a little confused. Straightening, Bilbo peered at his friend and tried to smile.

“You know Bofur, you were demanding quite loudly that I leave you there. More than once. Said you weren’t going anywhere with the likes of me. Even made me promise I’d let you go. Well then, I release you.” He teased, trying to break the tension in the air and Bofur chuckled, if weakly.

“No thank you. I think I’m more than happy with you fools.”

Gloin groaned loudly. “I just...dropped like a sack of potatoes...” He chuckled gruffly, rubbing a tired hand through his beard and Bilbo, not being able to hold it anymore, burst into laughter. If he didn’t laugh, he’d cry in horror. Those shrieking whispers still played back in his mind and he wanted nothing more than a pair of the longest pincers to somehow drag the sound out of his brain.

Bofur and Gloin looked startled by the laughter but Thorin studied Bilbo a bit strangely. He said nothing for the moment and after Bilbo’s laughter faded into light chuckling, he led them through the watch post on Rizhskaya without a problem.

Bilbo didn’t even need to demand that they take a rest there and neither Gloin nor Bofur objected when Thorin declared they would camp there. They were allowed use of the guest tent and while the others fell asleep, it was Thorin who lay awake, watching the roof of the tent quietly.

That small, young man heard the voice that he, Thorin was not able to hear. Not often did he feel inferior to someone in something and it was unusual. The hunter frowned, Gloin snoring loudly somewhere to his left. Bilbo had some sort of...knack for voices. The tunnels on the way to Botanicheskiy sad...the music he said he heard on the surface, now this. He had gotten them out of an incredibly dangerous situation because he was able to hear something that Thorin didn’t pick up on.

Then he was right in his decision to go to Polis and especially right to bring Bilbo along. Maybe the young man could help them with something they were currently unable to solve themselves.

Maybe...

Peering through the darkness, Thorin was just able to make out the sleeping shape of Bilbo, curled up tightly against a ragged old pillow.

Thorin hoped he was right. Really, really hoped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4th of July!
> 
> More expositioooon yaaay! 
> 
> I will say that I enjoyed writing this way more and I can't wait to start introducing the others ohohoho. 
> 
> I'm sorry I don't translate the Russian names of the stations; I still wanna keep that feel that this is in Russia and I like the cultural feel it gives the story. For a while I honestly considered giving the company Russian names. But then I'd have to throw myself off a cliff. 
> 
> Thank you again to everyone for reading and leaving some incredibly wonderful comments. I promise I don't squeal like a fangirl everytime haha.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to do this AU for months but could never get the wording right. Now that I was finally able to smack my muse into shape, here you are.
> 
> More exposition to come.
> 
> Also expect Russian station names and mix of canons. I will include a station map link for convenience in the next post. Trust me, it will be helpful. 
> 
> I own nothing of Tolkien's or Glukhovsky's.
> 
> If you've never read Metro 2033 and like post-apocalyptic horror, go read it because it's one of the best books I've read in a really long time. It's translated into English.


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